


I'm falling in love and that's all I have for confession today

by leiascully



Series: New York AU [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-03
Updated: 2009-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's seeing her face against a backdrop of stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm falling in love and that's all I have for confession today

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: AU (present-day)  
> A/N: So I decided there needed to be AU Lee/Kara for [**fluff_friday**](http://community.livejournal.com/fluff_friday/)! Because if all of this has happened before but maybe it won't happen again, at least not after they've all had one more fresh start. P.S. Frak you, Ron Moore. I'm not a hardcore Lee/Kara shipper, but gods, a little peace, right? Title's from Barenaked Ladies' "Blame It On Me".   
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

Lee's had this feeling before. Walking down the busy streets of New York, he'll get a flash of green fields, or a strange skyline, or an endless span of stars. He's used to it by now, but it's always fascinating. The glory of New York in the spring - warm enough for blossoms on the trees, not warm enough for the trashcans to reek - is enough to occupy his attention, but he likes these glimpses of beyond. He spends his days mired in politics and language barriers at the U.N.; sometimes he needs something even greater than the city to shake him out of his irritation with humanity.

Zak is lounging against the Wall Street Bull as the tourists eddy around him. "Took you long enough, big brother," he says.

Lee shrugs. "I'm worth waiting for."

Zak grins and slings his arms around Lee's shoulders. "Yeah, yeah, tell it to the market. Money doesn't care if you have this sentimental attachment to old-fashioned transportation. You know you could get off the subway a couple of stops later and not have to walk so far."

"Just take me out to lunch, okay?" Lee teases. "You're the one with the fat wallet and no social life."

"I have a social life!" Zak protests as they walk away from the bull.

"It takes place in a bar from 11 to 11.30," Lee reminds him. "That's not a social life."

"At least I only have one," Zak says and Lee grunts in agreement. "Anyway, you're gonna love this place." Zak reaches out for a door and drags it open. "After you." They find a couple of stools at the bar. "Joe! Two pints and two of your biggest, greasiest burgers."

"Comin' atcha," Joe says affably, and wanders off to pull their pints.

"I'm glad I finally get to see your haunt," Lee says after a moment, looking around. "It's got character. Plus there's a picture of a boat. Dad would be proud."

"Yeah," Zak says. "I'm glad he got off his 'Navy men are real men' kick."

"Yeah, well," Lee says, picking up the pint that Joe sets in front of him, "once I turned 18 and he realized I could be called up and sent off to die, it was smooth sailing for you. So to speak. This is good beer."

"Brewed right heah in the city," Joe grunts on his way to the grill.

"They're proud of it," Zak whispers. "Secret recipe. God, remember that time we tried to make wine out of that cranberry-grape whatever it was juice that summer?"

"Turns out there's more to it than just opening the bottle and leaving it out," Lee says. "Ah. Youth. Here's to not being idiots anymore."

Zak clinks his glass against Lee's. "Some of us are still dumb."

"Shut up," Lee says, grinning. He takes a drink and then sets down his glass and picks up his burger. "Mmm." He sinks his teeth in deep.

"Zachary!" exclaims a blond girl in paint-spattered jeans and a t-shirt so worn it's nearly transparent. She leans in beteen them. Lee almost chokes on his burger, chewing hastily. "You old hound dog. What are you doing here while the sun's still up? I thought you were allergic or something."

"Kara," Zak says warmly, and kisses her cheek. "This is my brother, Lee."

"Hello, Mister Adama," she says, looking him up and down, sticking out her hand for Lee to shake. Her grip is strong; his fingers tingle in her grasp. He's afraid there's ketchup on his palm, but he's seeing her face against a backdrop of stars. There's a feral quality to her smile. "I'm Kara Thrace."

"Kara dropped out of MIT and now makes an absurd amount of money making big-ass sculptures out of giant pieces of metal," Zak explains in a stage whisper. "Sometimes she steals old pieces of planes from salvage."

"Your idiot brother can't understand the math that goes into my art," Kara says, leaning comfortably on Zak's shoulder, "just like I can't understand the math that goes into his money. Just the money that goes into my pockets." She smirks at him and Lee's gone, just gone. He's been trying to stay away from women after that last fiasco of a relationship, but Kara winks at him and that's the end of that. She's otherwordly, warping the light in the room, making him remember those glimpses beyond. He needs to know her. She's the key, he thinks. She's the sign.

She leans in close. "You know, I'd tell you to make sure he doesn't get too serious, but you look even more responsible. Loosen up, Lee."

"I'm loose," he says. His mouth is dry, and he picks up his pint and takes a swallow.

She raises an eyebrow. "Whatever you say. You boys should come see my show when it opens. Zak, give me whatever fancy pen you've got in your pocket today."

Zak rolls his eyes and digs in his inside pocket, handing her a pen.

"Oooh," she says, "Mont Blanc. I sure hope it doesn't ruin the nib if I write on this napkin." She scribbles something down before Zak can protest, folds the napkin, and puts it into the side pocket of Lee's trousers. He jumps, his face hot.

"Hey, Starbuck, don't go intimidating my customahs," Joe says, handing her a box. "Always coming in here with your spiked-up coffee, like my booze isn't good enough for ya."

"Sometimes I need a little extra jolt, Joe. It doesn't mean I don't love you." She blows him a kiss and turns her fierce grin on Lee again. "Don't be a stranger, Lee."

The lilt in her voice warms him all over again. "Maybe I'll see you at the show," he says.

"I'd better," she says. "I have the feeling you could actually appreciate my art, unlike your plebe of a brother."

"God, make one remark and you never live it down," Zak grumbles. "See you, Kara."

"See you," Lee echoes, watching her disappear out the door.

"She's a piece of work," Zak says, shaking his head admiringly as he picks up his burger. "Mmm."

"Agreed," Lee says, reaching for his plate again. "You were right about the food."

He waits until several blocks after he's said goodbye to Zak before reaching into his pocket. There are seven numbers on it. Her handwriting is bold and a little jagged. That bodes well, he thinks, illogical as the notion is. He'll call her after work, take her for a drink, see where it goes. He has a good feeling about this. She feels like destiny. He can only imagine what she'll feel like in his arms.

Lee whistles as he trots down the stairs to the subway, stars and vistas all around him.


End file.
